


almost a whisper

by theagonyofblank



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-19
Updated: 2009-07-19
Packaged: 2017-10-21 22:06:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theagonyofblank/pseuds/theagonyofblank
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a smile pulls at the beautiful face above her, and morgana tries for one in return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	almost a whisper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zauberer_sirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/gifts).



> This was written for [](http://zauberer-sirin.livejournal.com/profile)[**zauberer_sirin**](http://zauberer-sirin.livejournal.com/) for [](http://femslash09.livejournal.com/profile)[**femslash09**](http://femslash09.livejournal.com/). Big thanks go to my awesomely awesome beta, [](http://underthatspell.livejournal.com/profile)[**underthatspell**](http://underthatspell.livejournal.com/)! It takes place in a cracky AU where Uther doesn’t know that Nimueh is a sorceress. Or something. Just work with me here, okay? I hope you like it! Also, I realize that nothing is capitalized; that’s not a mistake. It’s just how I started the fic and it seemed to fit.

_**Fic: almost a whisper**_  
Just saw that [](http://femslash09.livejournal.com/profile)[**femslash09**](http://femslash09.livejournal.com/) was open for posting! So here it is!

 **01.**

there’s a hand working its way through her hair, pulling gently.

she closes her eyes and relaxes into the touch, imagines it must be arthur.

imagines him whispering to her, saying her name:

 _morgana, morgana, morgana._

(and she must be dreaming, she _must,_ there’s no other explanation for this–)

she sighs, shifts a little.

a light brush against her forehead, and the hand doesn’t feel quite as rough, quite as large, as she expected.

her eyelids flutter open, eyes sparkling and expression teasing—

—and the words die on her lips as her gaze falls upon dark, dark hair, and shockingly blue eyes.

bluer than _his._

a smile pulls at the beautiful face above her, and morgana tries for one in return.

somehow it doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

  
 **02.**

strangely, she doesn’t pull away.

  
 **03.**

she’ll take perplexing over terrified any day.

she can’t quite remember the last time she hasn’t woken up frightened from a dream.

she stretches, slides into her robe, glad not to wake to the sound of gwen’s voice in her ears, gwen’s hands on her shoulders, her arms, calming her down.

the sunlight streams in from the outside, and she can hear the chatter of the people as they mill about the square.

this looks to be a good day.

  
 **04.**

morgana’s always had dreams.

dreams that somehow seem to come true.

 _prophecy,_ some would call it.

morgana squeezes her eyes shut at night and wishes it weren’t so.

  
 **05.**

that night, she dreams of green fields, blue eyes, and dark hair.

  
 **06.**

seven days of dreams like this.

seven days of fleeting touches, of careless laughter, of whispered words.

seven days of rest, of waking of her own accord.

seven days of quiet but melodious words ringing in her ears, all but a distant memory.

 _seven days,_ she muses to herself. _i can live with this a little longer._

and for the next seven days, she hums a tune she can’t quite remember but is familiar with all the same.

  
 **07.**

“who are you?”

her voice is quiet and curious, and she’s pleased with how it doesn’t waver.

“all in due time, morgana,” says the other woman in response.

it strikes morgana as colossally unfair that this woman knows her name.

she sets her lips in a thin line and says nothing.

and her dreams go on as before.

  
 **08.**

summer arrives at the castle, and with it a visitor.

“lady nimueh,” is what her uncle says, by way of introduction.

morgana dips her head respectfully, looks up —

—and just barely suppresses her gasp of surprise.

  
 **09.**

 _i’ve dreamt of you._

 _i’ve dreamt of you._

 _i dream of you._

  
 **10.**

she doesn’t know what this means.

her dreams used to be a lot clearer:

arthur drowning equals bad,

person standing over arthur drowning equals bad.

she doesn’t know how to classify ‘giggling and brief touches and covert gazes.’

 **11.**

nor does she know how to classify that thing her heart does whenever she catches sight of the lady nimueh.

  
 **12.**

that’s a lie.

she knows exactly how to classify it.

( _flirting._ )

but there’s too much meaning in that word.

and it’s not something she wants to associate with a woman.

  
 **13.**

she tries to fill her head with images of arthur.

if anything, it just makes her think all the more of silky, dark hair and delicate hands.

  
 **14.**

when she stops to think about it,

 _really_ think about it,

she realizes she doesn’t even _know_ the lady nimueh.

 **15.**

all she knows is what her dreams tell her.

how is she to know that they’re real this time too?

  
 **16.**

“uther said you might be inclined to show me around camelot.”

“did he?”

and morgana realizes that, in the lady nimueh’s first week here, she’s barely set foot outside the castle.

nimueh nods once. “will you?”

“yes,” she says.

it comes out as a breath, and she’s almost embarrassed at how she sounds.

almost.

nimueh doesn’t quite smile, but there’s a barest flicker of something—

it’s gone the next second, though, and morgana thinks she must have imagined it.

“we’ll leave at dawn tomorrow.”

  
 **17.**

the sun is high in the sky when they stop for a rest.

morgana ties her horse to a branch and wanders down to the riverbank.

the sound of the water is soothing, and she closes her eyes as she settles down onto the grassy bank.

she’s aware of the lady nimueh’s approach soon after;

she can hear the grass crunching under her feet, can feel the softness of another arm brushing against her own.

her eyelids flutter open at the latter.

she’s met with the barest hint of a smile.

she can feel a tug at her heart and quickly looks away.

  
 **18.**

these feelings — she doesn’t understand them.

all she knows is that she should not feel this way towards the lady nimueh.

  
 **19.**

her dreams are, once again, filled with the lady nimueh.

“why are you always here?”

her tone is searching and without an ounce of accusation.

“this is your dream, morgana,” the lady nimueh says, her lips curving into the beginnings of a smile. “perhaps you should ask yourself why you want me here.”

morgana is stunned into silence.

  
 **20.**

they only see each other weekly, at first.

a once-a-week ride to the outskirts of camelot,

or a once-a-week ‘date’ for archery,

but it is time well-spent, and morgana goes back each time happy and fulfilled.

  
 **21.**

and as the months pass and the summer winds down, morgana has taken to seeing nimueh daily.

a once-a-day walk around the castle,

or a once-a-day chat in the fields,

breakfastlunchdinner.

by the time fall comes, they are inseparable.

  
 **22.**

it alarms her, how quickly she seems to be falling.

  
 **23.**

“i think,” morgana begins one day, when they are lying side by side in the cool september air, “i think you should leave.”

the light fingers that are dancing across the back of her hand stop abruptly, and morgana turns so that she’s looking into blue eyes.

“is that what you want, morgana?”

the face in front of her is beautiful, painfully so, and the teasing smirk that’s on it only makes her long for more.

 _no,_ she wants to say. _i want you to stay here with me._

but this is only a dream, and it’s difficult to look at her best friend day after day, knowing how much more they could be if they let themselves.

 _this is wrong._

 _this needs to end._

“yes, that’s what i want.”

the finality in her voice seems to give nimueh pause.

“very well.”

nimueh turns morgana’s hand over, presses a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

“should you ever change your mind—”

“i won’t—”

“—you know where to find me.”

  
 **24.**

she has dreamless nights for a whole month after that.

she also loses a friend soon after.

  
 **25.**

“you’ve been avoiding me.”

it’s nighttime and the corridors are empty.

“i most certainly have been doing no such thing, morgana.”

“you have, and you know it.”

she’s angry; furious, even.

she doesn’t understand how things changed so quickly.

she doesn’t understand what she did.

  
 **26.**

“you said you wanted me to leave.”

  
 **27.**

she’s always known that nimueh was special.

she just didn’t realize she was special in that way.

  
 **28.**

it happens in the winter.

there’s fresh snow in the courtyard; everything’s covered in a layer of white powder.

morgana says something, and nimueh laughs — that same laugh that makes morgana’s insides tingle, that makes morgana want to take her face in her hands and kiss her.

and some of this must show on her face, because nimueh’s brow furrows.

“what’s wrong?” she asks.

“just—”

morgana pauses, reaches a hand out to tuck a stray lock behind nimueh’s ear.

she allows her hand to linger,

and then—

and then before she can stop herself, she’s leaning forward, and her eyes are slipping shut—

and she can feel soft lips against her own, kissing back.

  
 **29.**

“that took you long enough.”

morgana’s annoyed by the self-satisfied smirk that’s appeared on nimueh face.

“what do you mean, ‘long enough’?”

before she can say any more, nimueh is leaning in for a second kiss.

and maybe it’s a way to shut her up.

(actually, she’s certain that’s exactly what it is.)

but she doesn’t really think about it, and to be honest, it doesn’t matter anyway.

because nimueh’s tongue is slipping into her mouth and nimueh’s hands are all over and nowhere at the same time and.

well.

morgana kisses her fiercely in response.

\- - - - - - -

  



End file.
